Teddy Bear
by Caturday
Summary: I'll always be there for you


_Teddy Bear_

_Supposedly a part of the 'Empathy' sketches, this one got out of hand and I turned into a oneshot. You can still read 'Empathy' with my blessing if you found this agreeable. ButtersxBebe was supposed to be the second in the series, but got tossed aside. Even now, I wish I used more words (to say very little)._

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In my not-so-common sessions of fluff talk I sometimes get the florid claim of 'love' being the most complex and mysterious of human phenomena. Arguments? Some romance novel slash movie with an interchangeable name. Whenever this happens, I do so have to fight the urge to heartily laugh these 'enlightened' types out of the room. You're a victim of modern media, I struggle not to say.

What, then, _is _the most mysterious, you ask?

Why friendship of course.

I can explain love on a dinner napkin between fourth course and dessert. At the end of the day, there's still only one reason to love and that's reproduction. You like someone's genes enough, you fall in love with them. But friendship... man, there's literally a thousand-and-one reasons for people to start a friendship.

For the health of our timetables, let's cast a thousand of those aside and focus on just one.

There were these two toddlers up in the mountains who had been sighing their little lungs out for some time. Unaware of each other, they had both been going to the toy store up on the hill. In the display of this toy store a cuddly, and boy do I mean _cuddly, _teddy bear. It had these big, warm button eyes, a little stitched cross for a mouth and a snug white fur. Radiant by itself, the thing that really made this bear so fitting was the little sign it held in front of its heart. You know those bears that have sugary sayings sewn to their paws? This was one of them.

"_I'll always be there for you"_

it said, in vivid red letters. And though I doubt the toddlers were able to interpret this, I pose it here to point out the bittersweet irony to the reader.

They took no message to the conflicting adages of 'like attracts like' or 'opposites attract'. It wasn't a friendship based on interest, trust or need. The only thing that had bound these two infants were their visits to the toy store up on the hill. One day, they happened to have their noses pressed to the window at the same time, and were sighing simultaneously.

Bebe Stevens wanted something that she could hold. She wanted something solid that she could tightly curl up with; that would always be next to her and comfort her, no matter what happened.

Butters Stotch wanted a teddy bear.

Reason had nothing to do with it. Who can explain, after all, why this particular bear cost an outrageous 300 dollars? Who can explain the crotchets of a child, when it downright refuses to accept any substitute for its desired plushie?

They became friends. And day after day, Bebe would visit the other blonde's house after school. They'd bring out his dollhouse and play make-believe. They were the lonely inhabitants of the little house on the prairie. They were the madly-in-love couple that was expecting its firstborn. They were the puerile lambs that confide in each other their dreams and closest fantasies.

But time crept onwards, and too soon came the stage where people are supposed to outgrow their youthful naivety. The fact that Bebe grew more beautiful with each moon couldn't even escape Butters' notice. She started wearing makeup. Boys liked her; girls looked up to her. She became the most popular girl in school, and she was happy.

And Butters, he was happy _for_ her, even though she went where he couldn't follow. He didn't blossom- he withered. Sweet he may be, but gauche. Careless in his innate kindness, he was the innocence that teenagers learn to despise. He was the castaway and Bebe, for the sake of her insecurity, had to do what was expected of her. _Butters who_? She had reached the age where one no longer admits to the ownership of teddy bears.

Still, the two teens never were truly disconnected. Covertly, Bebe would still come over on weekends. She would still call the boy in the death of night and Butters was still as delighted as always at the hearing of her voice. He cared so much for her, it didn't matter what she did, as long as he got to be there with her. Whenever she came over, Butters would dust off the old dollhouse and present it, clearly visible, in his room. He even bought new dolls for it, hoping the vibrant objects would somehow cause Bebe's eyes to stray to the careless fun they used to have.

But Bebe wanted to talk. About her problems. It ached Butters that such a sweet girl would have so many problems- but she did. She thought that she was fat; that she wasn't a nice person. She was scared people loathed her or didn't care about her. She thought that she would never find the right guy and that nobody would ever like her for who she was.

And each and every time they talked, Butters would assure her and comfort her. He told her that she was beautiful, and everything would always work out in the end.

It wasn't until she got her first boyfriend that Butters wanted to say something. She thought Clyde was right for her. Butters, despite so wanting to believe her, knew he wasn't. He knew by the way she talked about him. Clyde didn't make her happy- not like she deserved to be. By the hitched breaths and silent sobs she didn't utter, Butters knew something was wrong.

But it wasn't his place to speak. Bebe was his friend, nothing more. He was there to feel, not to argue. When she was happy, he was happy. When she was sad, he was sad, and he would do everything to make her happy again.

So he kept quiet. And he continued to keep quiet when Bebe came over to his house in tears, desperation leaking from her eyes and scarlet strains chaffed across her wrists. He didn't speak out when she dug her nails into his shirt and cried until her face was blue. He never protested when she pushed him away, telling him that he didn't understand; that it was all his fault.

It _was_ his fault. It always was. His parents knew it, he knew it, and now Bebe knew it. It wasn't that Butters _wanted_ to always mess everything up- it just happened. Why was he so clumsy? Why could he never do anything right?

He had never felt so bad in his life. Bebe was hurt, and he was to blame. He didn't, and couldn't, understand. Worst of all, there was nothing he could do to help her. Because for all the happiness that he wanted her to have, he never seemed to have enough of it to give. If only, oh _if only _he knew of a way to make her feel better. He would give anything. Anything at all.

Then it hit him.

It's funny how memories can fade to the point that they almost slipped from the mind, then turn vivid again in the blink of an eye. To the Stotch boy, it seemed like only yesterday that he made his walk through the snow, heading for the toy store up on the hill. The building hadn't changed one bit, as if frozen in time, and its entire stock was just the way he remembered it.

Butters was smiling again. Finally, after all these years, things would be all right.

When he came to Bebe's house it was a horrible sight. Mrs Stevens was crying, Mr Stevens was yelling and Clyde Donovan seemed to be hyperventilating. Barbrady assured curious crowds there was nothing to see as they flocked around the two faceless men carrying a stretcher into their van.

He was too late.

It was his fault. It always was.

Due to everyday life in South Park, most of the graves are makeshift and eroded by the constant snow. Nearly half of them were made for yours truly, consisting of nothing more than a mold and wooden stick.

One of these graves, however, stands out against the rows of gray. On the slab a cuddly, and boy do I mean _cuddly, _teddy bear. It has these big, cold button eyes, a little stitched cross for a mouth and a faded white fur cloaked in ice and dirt. Melancholic on its own, the thing that really makes this bear so fitting is the little sign it holds in front of its heart.

"_I'll always be there for you"_


End file.
